


Bridge (Merry Christmas)

by thisisapaige



Series: Empty Spaces In Between The Lines [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Dean still made his deal after all, Episode: s03e08 A Very Supernatural Christmas, Established Relationship, M/M, Oneshot, Part of Empty Spaces, with a bit of Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 11:54:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17141276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisisapaige/pseuds/thisisapaige
Summary: 'Well, yeah. This is my last year.'When Dean said those words, soft and earnest, Sam watched as the mask made of bravado slipped off his brother’s face for just a moment before Sam shut him down.Dean laughed as he showed Cas how to put his hands up behind his ears, something to do with antlers no doubt, though Sam missed the shift in topic. Cas never had a Christmas either. Sam smiled as he watched his two favorite dorks joke around, childlike glee glimmering in Dean’s eyes, and, just like the Grinch, Sam’s heart grew three sizes. It would hurt, Sam knew, to sit with his little family, aware it would be the last time they ever would. This was what Dean wanted, though, and Dean deserved to be happy no matter how much he acted the opposite.Shit. He was going to do this, wasn’t he? What the hell was even open on Christmas Day, anyway?~~~Christmas oneshot set in the Empty Spaces series. Based on the episode 'A Very Supernatural Christmas.'





	Bridge (Merry Christmas)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!
> 
> This is a little gift for all of you. Thank you for reading my stuff and thank you for your patience as I keep working on 'The Lines.' I promise I will finish it! It went in a different direction than I expected, but hopefully a good one. :)
> 
> Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, etc, etc. I hope you have an excellent day no matter what you do/do not celebrate.

In their line of work, the Winchesters improvised numerous times in a fight for their lives. Sam had to admit, stabbing a couple of pagan gods with their own Christmas tree was a particularly inspired moment. Dean's manic grin when he pointed out the bulb at the top of the makeshift stake, still protruding from Mrs. God's chest, made Sam prepare his best disapproval face.

“Hey, hey, Cas, check it out!” Dean waited for Cas to stand upright from the couch Mr. God had flung him against before winking and saying, in his best impression of a movie Santa Claus, “Merry Christmas!” before collapsing into a fit of laughter.

Cas smiled indulgently, though it was clear he had no idea what was funny. Good, Sam wasn't the only one. Cas walked up to the Christmas tree, grabbing one the the branches between his fingers. A mess of pine needles fell onto the elaborate golden tree skirt below.

“Which begs the question-- why have something in your home that is the only thing that can kill you?” Cas asked.

Dean raised from his squatting position, slapping his hands together in an attempt to clear out the sap. He shot his hand a rather disappointed look when he had to fight to separate his fingers. Sam tried not to laugh at the absurd picture Dean made, standing over a dead body slightly miffed that his hands were sticky.

Considering Sam still crouched over Mr. God, he figured he must look odd, too. He got to his feet, nearly tripping over a lost Christmas bulb by his feet. The plastic covered couch creaked at him when he grabbed it for balance, sounding like a tired grandma fretting over the mess in her living room.

“Authenticity!” Dean said, still fired up from their fight, “fake trees just don't smell the same.”

“And that matters?” Cas placed a hand on his chin.

God those dorks could be both adorable and disgusting at the same time. Dean spent the whole case taking about Christmas traditions to an increasingly bewildered Cas. Apparently the years Cas spent as human did not include indulging in the holidays. For a former angel, those traditions look strange, indeed. A few explanations managed to stun Cas into silence, as if he had to reboot his whole system before he could form a proper sentence. He really didn't understand why angels should top a tree.

Sam was in the middle of a recent crime scene, watching as Dean explained to a nodding Cas all the virtues of a real Christmas tree. He didn't want to stop them. All though the last few weeks, Sam watched as Dean smiled at every cherub-like angel lawn decoration, every elf, every reindeer, every awful depiction of Santa. Every time it broke Sam’s heart.

Christmas sucked every year. It was the anniversary of when Sam learned the truth about monsters, about mom, about everything. Everyone expected people to be jolly this time of year when Christmas only served as a reminder of what he lost. And next year he'd be alone.

They hadn't made any progress on Dean's deal. All those late nights pouring over books, Bobby tapping every resource he had, and even Cas's experience, failed to bring them any closer to saving Dean.

_Well, yeah. This is my last year._

When Dean said those words, soft and earnest, Sam watched as the mask made of bravado slipped off his brother’s face for just a moment before Sam shut him down.

Dean laughed as he showed Cas how to put his hands up behind his ears, something to do with antlers no doubt, though Sam missed the shift in topic. Cas never had a Christmas either. Sam smiled as he watched his two favorite dorks joke around, childlike glee glimmering in Dean’s eyes, and, just like the Grinch, Sam’s heart grew three sizes. It would hurt, Sam knew, to sit with his little family, aware it would be the last time they ever would. This was what Dean wanted, though, and Dean deserved to be happy no matter how much he acted the opposite.

Shit. He was going to do this, wasn’t he? What the hell was even open on Christmas Day, anyway?

***

Sam managed to convince Dean that staying behind to clean up the scene was a one person job. As soon as Sam and Cas did their part of the job, they found the one open gas station up the road, the lights inside a bright beacon in the fast approaching darkness brought about by dark, heavy looking clouds.

The door announced their arrival with a merry chime and the woman at the cash register eyed them suspiciously from under her festive red and green hijab. Sam offered her a friendly smile but her eyes narrowed before she looked away. Well, that was rude. As he turned to follow Cas to the displays at the back of the store, he caught a flash of red on his jacket collar. Oh, that looked a lot like blood. Might _actually_ be blood. Shit. No wonder the lady looked like that.

He made a futile attempt to cover up the stain, then caught up to Cas, who stared at a display of pine-scented air fresheners.

“Smell is important, correct?” Cas asked.

The damn things were even tree shaped. It wasn’t quite the same but he was on a bit of a time limit. He grabbed all of them, knocking the whole display over, half into his arms and half of it on the floor. The clerk scoffed behind him, probably deeply regretting the Christmas shift. Cas stared at Sam with wide eyes.

“I got an idea,” Sam said. “Help me out.”

They picked the mess up off the floor and then piled everything on the counter. Sam did his best to look apologetic before continuing his hunt. He found eggnog and snatched the last bottle of cheap rum, alone on the fridge's bottom shelf, adding them to the growing pile. He found a box of multicoloured lights, a miracle to find that in a gas station, and shoved it into his arms. Next, he grabbed a candy bar because he had never known Dean to turn down food. Motor oil sat by the door in a meticulous, boredom induced pyramid. It was even the right kind for the Impala, so Sam took one from the top. Food and the car. Easy peasy. Who said Christmas shopping was hard?

Sam dumped the rest of his bounty on the counter, the clerk still scanning the air fresheners, and looked around for Cas. He found him standing in an aisle containing various electronic cords, a few novelty Michigan mugs, and keychains. Cas held a keychain in his hands, a gold medallion style one that opened like a locket.

“Find something?” Sam asked, a gentle nudge to remind him Dean would be back at the hotel any second.

“Oh. I--” Cas put the keychain back on the rack. “I don’t know.”

“It’s all good, man. You better help me set up, alright?”

Cas nodded and turned away. Before Sam returned to the cash register, he found the keychain Cas had admired and threw it on top of their expensive pile. He had no idea why Cas would want it but Cas’s pleased smile when he saw what was in Sam's hand made it not matter. Damn it. Now he understood why Dean melted around Cas so often.    

“How are you?” Cas asked the clerk.

“Living the dream,” the clerk said, dumping the air fresheners into a plastic bag, huffing when one of them landed on the floor. She picked it up, but not without keeping her eye on Sam the whole time. It was kind of impressive, really.

“That sounds like sarcasm.”

“Really. What was your first clue.” She shoved the rest of the items into another bag. “Total’s on the screen.”

Sam handed her the bills and took the bags, trying to leave the clerk’s grumpiness behind. Yeah, yeah, she had the right to feel uncomfortable. He was the one with blood on his clothes.    

“Aiya,” Cas said. Sam turned from his place at the door to watch as Cas spoke a string of Arabic words.

The clerk-- Aiya, Sam could see it on her name tag now-- placed her hands flat on the counter, lowered her shoulders and dropped her chin to her chest. She took a deep breath. When she looked up, her eyes were shining.

“How did you know?” She said, her tone so soft Sam had to strain his ears to hear it.

“No one should be alone on their birthday. I’m certain you family misses you.”

The tears escaped Aiya’s eyes and she wiped them away. “I’m sorry for my attitude before. I miss them so much.”

“I’m sure He will forgive you,” Cas said.

Aiya sniffed then stood tall. “May Allah bless you.”

Cas stepped back. “Thank you, though I doubt He will. I’m sure He does you, though.”

Cas walked out the front door, completely oblivious to Aiya wide-eyed stare. She watched him open the car door, her face filled with wonder.

The bag safely stowed in the back seat, Sam slipped into the driver’s seat and turned on the ignition. He stared at the dashboard for a solid minute. 

“Sam,” Cas said, as if he hadn’t just performed a miracle, “I thought we were on a time limit?”

So casual. Sam bit his lip to hold back a laugh. “How’d you know?”

Cas squinted. “Know what?”

“What to say to her in there?”

“Oh,” Cas said. He thought for a moment, tilting his head. “It seemed like the right thing to do, I suppose?”

“You _suppose_?”

“Her soul was sad,” Cas said, as if that made any sense at all. Apparently that was the end of their conversation because Cas faced ahead and changed the subject. “What is your plan with all those air fresheners?”

Sam put the Impala into drive and answered Cas’s question. Today Sam wasn’t going to worry about it. Cas was an overly empathetic guy, that was all. Yeah. He wasn’t going to worry about it because tonight he’d drink spiked eggnog with his family and watch the game. He wasn’t going to worry about it being the last time. He wasn’t going to worry about their fast approaching deadline. He wasn’t going to worry about being alone. 

He wasn’t going to worry about it.

***

Okay, so, the room smelled _terrible_ but at least they made something resembling a Christmas tree. The lights were a nice touch. Sam took another swig of alcoholic eggnog and admired his handy work.

“Sam,” Cas said, holding out his hand, “this is for you.”

The keychain from the gas station lay in Cas's hand. Sam took it and, after a nod from Cas, he opened it. Swirls of blue and gold greeted him, warm bright colours which stirred long buried memories of safety and love. In those colours he could almost see her blue eyes, watch her gold hair shine, smell the perfume on her neck. Sam was used to the sprawling canvases Cas collected, many of them half-finished and left abandoned, but this piece fit inside a silly little keychain bought on clearance.

“Wow,” Sam said, still staring down at it, “a Cas original.”

“I-- I had to fold the edges a little. It wasn't quite the right size and--”

Sam clicked the keychain shut, securing it in his pants pocket. “Hey, man. Thank you.”

There was that smile again. “I'm glad.”

Rubbing the back of his neck, Sam said, “And to think all I got you was a separate room key. For me.”

Cas squirted at Sam, which slowly dissolved into a sly grin as he caught the meaning. “I would deem that acceptable.”

With that look on Cas's face, Sam needed a fresh eggnog. He turned around filling two glasses. “Cas? Alcohol or no today?”

“Not today.”

Sam handed the glass to Cas. “Ever drink this before?”

“No.” Cas took a sip. He paused. Took another sip. “It's… strange.”

Cas drank the eggnog again, making Sam laugh when he started at the liquid inside, brows furrowed as if he were looking at a ancient text.

Strange drink, strange man. Good pair. Hopefully his other half would arrive soon.

\---

Of fucking course the snow would start after he said yeah, sure, it was _totally_ fine that Sam and Cas take the Impala. Mild weather over here, after all.

Dean didn't think that one through. He managed to clean up the evidence well enough and set the police on the trail of the missing persons. That must have pissed the gods off in whatever afterlife they entered because it started to snow as soon as he left the house. He trudged back to the motel, a blanket of white covering the streets, his socks wet and the tips of his ears red.

He probably should have stole a car but that seemed like a total dick move to pull on Christmas of all days. He sighed when finally reached the motel door, numb fingers fumbling with the key.

The first thing he noticed was the smell. An overwhelming scent of pine made by someone who never smelled it in their life knocked him back as if it were a physical wall. He found the source of it: an adorable attempt at a Christmas tree, complete with lights, stuck to the wall. Directly beside it stood a red-cheeked Sam and a bemused Cas, both turning with expectant smiles towards Dean.

“What's all this?” Dean said, unable to keep the smile out of his voice.

“What do you think it is? It's-- it's Christmas!” Sam raised his glass.

There was eggnog with kick and there was the stuff Sam gave him. He looked pleased with himself when he managed to make Dean pull a face. It did the trick, though, and the three of them squeezed together on the couch, Sam on one side and Cas on the other, celebrating a gas station Christmas.

Dean raised an eyebrow at Cas. “What? You didn't get me anything?”

Cas smirked and, oh, Dean knew that glimmer in his eye. “I did. I figured it wouldn't be appropriate to give it in front of your brother.”

Dean knew he blushed because that smirk got even more cocky. He tried to stutter out a response but Sam stood up, hands outstretched as he tried to shield Dean and Cas from view. Some days, Sam still acted like the six year old Dean remembered.

“Okay!” Sam said, his special nog making him a little loud. He continued, soft and earnest, “you-- you want to watch the game?”

“Absolutely,” Dean replied.

Sam turned on the television and Dean sat there, in between his two most important people, and did something normal for a change. The lights on the 'tree’ glittered on the wall and he shook his head, amazed at how ridiculous his Stanford-educated brother and his former literal angel must have looked sticking that beauty up.

Dean loved it.

Out the window, his baby's hood was already dusted with snow. Dean leaned back, throwing an arm around Cas's shoulder, and took another swig of nog.

Tomorrow he would worry. Half a year to go. Best not to think about it, about how next year he wouldn't be here. Best not think about the sadness behind Sam's eyes, the grief in the words he didn't say. Best not think about Cas's gentle hand on Dean's leg, casual touch coming more frequently from him, more urgent. No, tomorrow he would worry. For now, he would enjoy Christmas with the family.

***

Thirty seconds after Sam closed the door, Cas was on him. Dean was kind of impressed he lasted thirty seconds.

Cas pressed him against the door, his mouth open and needy. Dean matched his intensity, wrapping his arms around Cas's broad shoulders.

“Ho, ho, ho,” Dean said, because that was totally appropriate at a time like this.

Cas tilted his head. “What?”

“Nevermind. Too much nog.”

Cas squinted at him, fully aware Dean only had half his drink, but he didn't press the issue. He did, however, push at Dean until they tumbled onto the bed, trying to somehow remove their clothes while attached at the lips.

They succeeded, somehow, and Cas touched Dean everywhere he could reach. Cas replaced his hands with his mouth, murmuring a long litany of love and devotion into Dean's skin. Whispered words sent pleasant shivers down Dean's spine. He tried to taste them in Cas's mouth, he tried to feel them when pulled Cas closer, he tried to return them without saying a word.

Afterword, they lay side by side, Cas caressing Dean's body, tracing the shape of him as if he were trying to commit it to memory.

Dean leaned forward, placing a soft kiss on Cas's lips, enjoying the quiet of the moment.

He had to take these moments when he could. He didn't have that many left.

“Merry Christmas, Cas.”

“Merry Christmas, Dean.”

And he had a very good night.


End file.
